


Prancing and Purswaysions

by ThetaSigma



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Dancing, How many angels could dance on the head of a pin?, M/M, None - Freeform, angels can't dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 07:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20944442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/ThetaSigma
Summary: Dancing has been on  Crowley's list ever since humans invented it, but Aziraphale has been putting it off with transparent excuses and distractions. Crowley’s determined that tonight they are going dancing, regardless. He’s not expecting Aziraphale to be a perfect dancer; he more just wants the experience of holding his love close as they dance (or sway) to the music. In his mind, this is not too much to ask.“Angel, tonight we’re going dancing,” Crowley declares as he enters the bookshop.“Oh, my dear, but tonight there’s this lovely performance of Hamle--”“Nope,” Crowley answers. “There isn’t a performance of anything anywhere. I checked, and if there were, they’ve mysteriously had to reschedule. Dancing.”Or: Even the cha-cha slide is impossible for some.





	Prancing and Purswaysions

**Author's Note:**

> This whole fic is completely my sister's fault. She asked when we were chatting: "since angels can't dance, would Aziraphale doing the cha-cha slide look like when our brother tried it?", and that idea WOULD NOT leave my head (by the way, our brother trying to do this dance went about how I described Aziraphale doing it. He did not wedge himself into a corner, but he did nearly fall down our stairs)  
The title is also her doing.

In 6000 years, Crowley’s thought of several things he’d like to do with Aziraphale should they ever be free from Heaven and Hell (or should Aziraphale finally stop  _ caring _ about what they think. Unsurprisingly, their complete freedom came first). 

Dancing has been on that list ever since humans invented it, but Aziraphale has been putting it off with transparent excuses and distractions. Crowley’s determined that  _ tonight _ they are going  _ dancing _ , regardless. He’s not expecting Aziraphale to be a perfect dancer; he more just wants the experience of holding his love close as they dance (or sway) to the music. In his mind, this is not too much to ask.

“Angel, tonight we’re going dancing,” Crowley declares as he enters the bookshop.

“Oh, my dear, but tonight there’s this lovely performance of Hamle--”

“Nope,” Crowley answers. “There isn’t a performance of anything anywhere. I checked, and if there  _ were _ , they’ve mysteriously had to reschedule. Dancing.”

Aziraphale fidgets. “But, my dear, I do have to do the inventory for the book--”

“Nope,” Crowley says. “You did inventory last week when I brought this up. And three weeks ago. And two months ago. And --”

“Yes, yes, I see your point, my dear.” He fidgets some more. “My… mother’s coming to visit?” he offers.

Crowley wants to laugh at that,  _ so much _ . Because it’s a  _ terrible _ excuse. But Crowley refuses to be put off by that. “You know perfectly well you don’t  _ have _ a mother.”

“Uh….”

“Angel, what is this about?” 

The mumble that comes out of Aziraphale cannot be transcribed. Too inaudible.

“Angel?”

“I can’t dance,” Aziraphale says sadly. “All I ever learned was the gavotte. Angels can’t dance.” He looks  _ so _ forlorn that Crowley cannot resist gathering the angel in his arms and holding him tight. 

“Oh,  _ angel _ ,” he breathes against Aziraphale’s head. “I wish you’d told me. We’re definitely not dancing a  _ gavotte _ , I know that much, but….” He trails off. Does he want to teach Aziraphale to dance, or just tell him that it’s enough for them to hold each other and sway together?

“But?” Aziraphale prompts, and Crowley realises he feels incredibly self-conscious about this, and even swaying together in public would mortify him. 

“We’ll dance together here,” Crowley murmurs against his skin. “We’ll sway to some music. I just want you in my arms, angel.”

With a wave of his hand, soft music fills the bookshop, and they sway together, sometimes to the rhythm, sometimes not. Crowley focuses on how much he  _ loves _ Aziraphale, how  _ adored _ this man is, and Aziraphale feels it all, feels the waves of adoration and love coming off Crowley.

***

But the idea of teaching Aziraphale to dance doesn’t leave Crowley. He tries -- for  _ someone’s _ sake, he  _ tries _ . The waltz goes terribly. Crowley’s toes are bruised by the end from Aziraphale accidentally stomping on them constantly. 

The tango goes worse. Crowley’s pretty sure both of them sprained at least one joint attempting that.

The attempt at the foxtrot may never be mentioned again. Both of them have banned it. Similarly the attempt at jitterbug was so disastrous that they were half-tempted to wipe their memories of it.

Crowley then stops trying to teach Aziraphale partner dances and aims to just teach him  _ a dance _ , any dance other than the gavotte.

Aziraphale knowing the gavotte actually bolsters Crowley’s determination. The angel learned  _ one dance _ , that means he could potentially learn others. They try the electric slide, the running man, tap dance, and ballet with zero luck. (Crowley in the meantime learns to breakdance, which he’s decided he’s not even going to  _ try _ to teach to Aziraphale).

“Okay, what about this one?” Crowley asks, loading a song up on YouTube. “It’s the Cha Cha Slide, and the instructions are  _ in the song _ . They’re simple!”

They start off well:  _ Everybody clap your hands! _ And Aziraphale and Crowley clap along, Crowley more on the beat than Aziraphale, but hell, Crowley’s seen a lot of people be a  _ lot _ further away from the beat, so he’ll take it.

_ To the left _

_ take it back now y’all _

_ one hop this time _

_ right foot let’s stomp _

_ left foot let’s stomp _ . Those moves go fine as well, both of them following along just fine. Crowley starts to believe that maybe he found a second dance Aziraphale can learn (and hopes that with two dances under his belt, Aziraphale will feel confident learning a third, and they can work their way up to waltzing in public). Aziraphale is hopping and sliding with abandon and looks like he's actually having  _ fun. _

The  _ cha-cha real smooth _ part does not need mentioning. Aziraphale is anything but smooth, but he’s adorable when he’s trying to cha-cha real smooth, and Crowley’s completely in love with him, so he does not mention that Aziraphale looks like every out-of-touch grandpa right now.

Disaster strikes somewhere around the middle of the song. In theory, the dance keeps you within a square of the floor, moving around as you slide to the left and take it back and one hop and reverse.

Aziraphale has managed to meander into Crowley’s square, convinced he is completely, 100% following the instructions. After Aziraphale nearly hops into Crowley's foot, Crowley dances away so that he has space to hop and slide, but Aziraphale, not thirty seconds later, hop hops into a bookshelf. A quick demonic miracle keeps any of them from falling out of the shelf.

By the time they need to take it low all the way to the floor, Aziraphale is wedged into a corner and bangs his knees attempting to squat at all. He is flushed, sweaty, grumpy, and bruised, and definitely is not having a good time.

Crowley is torn whether to stop the music and admit defeat (which would embarrass and upset his angel terribly) or to keep going (which would embarrass and upset his angel terribly). He has no good options, and finally chooses to stop the music and pull Aziraphale to him.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale says sadly, tears in his eyes. “I can’t  _ do _ this.”

“Oh, angel,” Crowley says softly, holding him close. “It doesn’t matter. It  _ doesn’t _ ,” he says fiercely when he senses Aziraphale is about to object. “I’m sorry I ever pushed you on this.”

Crowley decides that this is the absolute last time he’ll ever,  _ ever _ mention dancing. He’s not even gonna try to teach Aziraphale the time warp (which was going to be his next attempt, what with the whole “it’s just a jump to the left and a step to the right”). He’ll never ask to just hold Aziraphale and sway together either. 

Aziraphale decides that he’s privately going to find  _ one _ dance he can learn, other than the gavotte, because Crowley’s been nothing but patient and it’s his fault that he’s a horrible student, not Crowley’s, and his demon wants this  _ so badly _ .

***

It’s been three or so years since Crowley tried to teach Aziraphale to dance. In that time, Crowley has never, ever brought up dancing again. He doesn’t even mention that the reason he’s not around on Thursday mornings is because he’s breakdancing (he  _ really _ fell in love with that, and his strange walk and loose joints are absolutely perfect for it).

Aziraphale, on Thursday mornings, has been learning, painstakingly, how to dance. During this time, he’s crossed a lot more options off his list, but finally,  _ finally _ , he found one that he wasn’t immediately terrible at, and with a lot of practice (two and half years’ worth, every Thursday morning), Aziraphale is finally comfortable showing Crowley his new dance.

“Dearest, I have a bit of a surprise for you,” Aziraphale says hesitantly. “We’re going to a club tonight so I can show you something.”

Crowley is immediately intrigued. “Sounds exciting.” He doesn’t for a moment guess that Aziraphale is going to show off some dance moves. His guesses are going more towards “kinky new sex club” or “really amazing cocktail place”.

When they first walk into this club, Crowley guesses it’s more the first than the second. It’s definitely a sex club.

Aziraphale pecks him on the cheek and says “I’ll be back in a bit, just watch for now.”

Crowley relaxes into his seat, not at all concerned where Aziraphale has gone (arranging the surprise, probably) and idly watches the people around him. There are strippers on the stage, and he has half an eye on them. He’s not particularly interested, but he can appreciate beauty in others.

A new arrival makes him frown and sit up. Is that…  _ Aziraphale? _ About to  _ pole-dance? _ And the word  _ dance _ in that hits him and he realises, oh buggering fuck, this is still about the dancing.

But Aziraphale is  _ good _ . Really good, and Crowley’s definitely squirming watching him. The absolutely angelic look on his face crossed with the lascivious pole-dance is a  _ powerful _ aphrodisiac.

Eventually Aziraphale gets off the stage and sits carefully down in the seat next to Crowley. “Well, my dear?” he asks hesitantly.

“You better miracle us home  _ right this minute _ ,” Crowley growls. 

“You liked it?” Aziraphale confirms.

Crowley takes Aziraphale’s hand and presses it to his raging erection. “ _ Yes. Take me home and fuck me.” _

As Aziraphale concentrates on miracling them home safely, he considers what dance to learn next. After all, he learned this one so well!


End file.
